


Champagne and Kleenex

by thewightknight



Series: Redemption Is Not a Dirty Word [7]
Category: Aquaman (2018), DCU
Genre: Don't copy to another site, F/M, Romantic Fluff, sweeter than cotton candy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 10:02:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19972228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewightknight/pseuds/thewightknight
Summary: Tom wasn't waiting at the end of the pier one morning.Arthur has a secret way out of the palace.





	Champagne and Kleenex

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the long delay between posts. I have not abandoned this series! I just signed up for two bangs and also had a fic to write for my winning bidder for Fandom Trumps Hate. Thanks for your patience, everyone!

The talks with the Fisherman kingdom had kept Atlanna away longer than she liked. It had been several weeks since she’d seen Tom, and with the years that they’d already lost, every missed day hurt that much more. She’d left her ship behind several kilometers out to see and now tore through the water, trying to beat the dawn.

With only a few seconds to spare, she saw the lighthouse ahead, and poured on even more speed, bursting from the water at the base of the pier as the first light of the sun spilled out over the water. When the water droplets cleared, she saw that the end of the pier was empty. Pulling herself up, she told herself there was no need to worry. Tom was just late, that’s all. She’d see him walking down the path from the bluff as soon as her feet hit the wood of the pier. Except when she stood there, water sheeting from her as the salt air whipped her hair around her head, the path was empty.

Heart in her throat, she summoned her trident raced for the house at the top of the cliff.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It felt good to be back in Atlantis.

The talks with the Fisherman kingdom had stalled again. This was either the third or fourth time now. Arthur couldn’t remember. Well, he could. He didn’t want to remember.

They’d left Orm behind, with a contingent of their own guards to match the numbers the [elephant] had put on him. He thought they’d moved past the point where someone would murder his brother in passing, but it didn’t hurt to be sure. Not that it wouldn’t be a major headache relief, but Atlanna would be devastated and he couldn’t disappoint her.

Speaking of his mother, she’d taken advantage of the break and had barely taken the time to give him a hug and a kiss goodbye before racing off. He hadn’t even had a chance to tell her to say hi to dad. It was weird, but in a good way, to see how in love the two of them still were.

“Arthur!” Mera swam up to him, hair wafting around her like a crimson cloud, and his thoughts of his parents reminded him of some other things he’d been thinking about. Mainly, one thing in particular, or, to be exact, one person.

“Quick!” he said after a quick look around to make sure the hallway was empty. “Nobody’s looking. C’mon!”

Taking her hand he sped down the corridor, zigging and zagging through the palace to avoid everyone they came across. He’d finally learned his way around, thanks to some exploring and a few tips from Vulko. It was one of those tips that he utilized now, popping open a secret door that led into a service corridor and from there to a vent that let out into the ocean.

Mera frowned as he popped it open. “That’s a security risk.”

“Only if we tell someone. You’re now the third person that knows about it.”

“Where’d you learn it from?” she asked as she followed him out.

“Vulko showed me. How do you think he used to get out to come see me without Orm knowing?” After setting the grate back in place, he took her hand again, leading her down. “You’re the third person that knows about this now.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Some sense returned to Atlanna before she reached the house. She didn’t barge in, although every instinct screamed at her to do so. The house looked untouched. That meant it was a trap.

Instead of bursting through the front door she went around to the back. A quick leap from the top of a barrel in the back of the garage took her to its roof and from there she took a running leap, catching on the beam that supported the overhang above the guest bedroom window. Hanging on with one hand, she fumbled at the window with the other. It hadn’t been latched and she was able to ease it open.

She slid through, landing on the floor with only a whisper of sound. Nothing stirred in the house. Padding over to the door, she eased it open, surveying the hall outside. It was empty. Still fighting the urge to hurry, she inched her way to top of the stairs. Any faster and the floorboards would creak, warning the intruders.

When she reached the main bedroom, the one she and Tom shared, she saw the door was slightly ajar. Through the crack, she could see the covers rumpled. Tom always made the bed every morning when he rose. Still moving at glacial speed, she eased the door open.

Tom lay in bed, on his side, facing her. His hair stuck to his forehead with sweat and his skin was flushed. There was a box of tissue on the nightstand next to his bed, littered with crumpled wads of white, as well as a bottle of cough syrup and a digital thermometer.

“Oh.” Her knees sagged as relief washed through her and she gripped the doorframe to stay upright. “Oh, thank the gods.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Mera recognized the wreck that Arthur led her to. She’d brought him to it when he’d first come to Atlantis with her. The air bubble inside had been restored, and the insides set right again, or as right as could be made in such a ruin.

There were other additions – a table and two chairs, set with white cloth and mismatched china and silver scavenged from various wrecks. He’d taken the time to scrub the salt from the silver until it shown. He’d brought in white tapers and as she watched he lit them with a lighter he pulled from within his scaled tunic. There were dishes laid on a side table, covered with more silver, domed lids that sparkled in the candlelight.

“What is all this?” she asked. “And how did you manage this?”

“Shhh! It’s a secret,” he said with a wink, pulling out a chair for her.

How he’d managed to smuggle this much surface food in, he wouldn’t say. He’d even brought some of that cake she liked so much, the one his father had made when they’d all had dinner together so many weeks ago. There was also a wine with bubbles that went up her nose and made her giggle. She tried to hide it, but Arthur heard and smiled at her, that grin that always implied he was up to something no good. That smile didn’t lie – he usually was up to no good, and tonight looked to be no exception.

Before serving the dessert, he emptied the remainder of the bottle into their glasses. Raising his flute, he clinked it against hers. “Surface custom. We call it a toast.”

“Why do you call it toast when there’s no bread?” she asked. She knew of both meanings, of course, but could never resist a chance to tease Arthur. She thought he might suspect what she was doing, but as usual, he played along.

“Same word, different thing. This way, it’s a thing you do for special occasions.”

“And all this, not just the toast, is a special occasion?”

Arthur took a deep breath, and said, “Well, I hope so.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Tom felt slightly warm, but not dangerously so. His pajamas and bedclothes were damp. He didn’t stir while she pulled one of his old quilts from the chest at the foot of his bed, but when she tucked it around him, he murmured, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth even as he slept. Kissing his forehead, she took up guard in the chair by the window, picking up a book she’d left there the last time she’d visited.

She read for a good hour, the turning of the pages a counterpart to Tom’s soft breathing, before he stirred. An arm snaked out from beneath the covers, fumbling for the clock on the nightstand. Tom turned it towards him, then swore when he saw the time, shooting straight upward, only to collapse back against his pillows, coughing from his exertions.

“Shhh,” Atlanna said as she rushed to his side. “Rest, love. I’m here.”

“I wasn’t there,” he said, a tremble in his voice that matched the one in her chest. “At dawn.”

“It’s all right.”

“I’ve never missed a dawn. Not since the day you left.”

Atlanna smoothed his hair back and planted a kiss on his forehead, then wrinkled her nose. He smelled of stale sweat and illness. But, when she considered the alternative, she kissed him again.

“Rest some more. I’m here now.” In only a few minutes his breathing evened out again. Easing up out of bed so she wouldn’t disturb him, she stripped her armor off and put on a soft shirt and loose pants, then slid back into bed next to him, wrapping herself around him as if she could ward off any harm that might come to him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Arthur looked nervous. Arthur never looked nervous. He either looked like he knew exactly what he was doing or like he had no idea what he was doing but was trying to convince you he did. This was new. He was actually fiddling with his glass, turning it between his fingers before draining the last of the bubbly wine.

“So, Mera,” he began after putting the glass down, and then he stopped.

“So, Arthur?” she prompted.

“Yeah, so ….” He trailed off again and she waited. “Remember how you said your father wanted to talk to me awhile back?”

She did. Nereus hadn’t told her what that talk had entailed, and Arthur had been surprisingly mute on it as well. For a man who liked to talk as much as he did, that had surprised her.

“He didn’t bring up what I expected. That treaty, you know? With the engagement.”

“Oh.” That surprised her. Her father had been set on the marriage with Orm as a way to bind their kingdoms together.

“Yeah, he still wasn’t that impressed with me. But that treaty is still there and someone will bring it up again at some point, once this other thing with the Fishermen is straightened out. And, well, I don’t want to wait for that.”

To Mera’s surprise, Arthur slid out of his chair and knelt before her, one arm propped up on his knee. His other hand held a small box.

“I don’t want to marry you because there’s a treaty between our kingdoms. I want to marry you because I want to marry you.” He opened the box to reveal an ornate ring, of shades of gold twined together and wrapped around an iridescent black pearl.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Tom drifted back into wakefulness. The arm around his waist tightened as he stirred and Atlanna murmured something unintelligible in his ear before snuggling even closer to him. He felt weak, and his throat still felt like he’d gargled glass, but it felt like his fever had broken while he slept.

It hadn’t been the smartest thing he’d ever done, going out in the rain to help Tom make emergency repairs to the roof of the bar when he already had a cold. He needed to remember that he wasn’t twenty anymore, or thirty, or forty even.

He managed to turn so he laid on his back without waking Atlanna and lay there, watching her sleep as the sunlight turned her hair to gold.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“I promise there’s no tracker in this one,” Arthur told Mera as she slid the ring on her finger.

“The thought never crossed my mind,” she said, before pulling him in for a kiss.

“So I take it that’s a yes?” he asked her when she let him up for air.

“That’s a yes.”

There were some parts of the treaty they’d have to address before the marriage, but that could wait. First, there was dessert.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you want to say hi, [check out my profile](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewightknight/profile) for where I’m currently hanging out on this here internet thing.


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